Chapter 1

    Liu Mei closed the book with a soft thud and tossed it onto the bedside table with a scoff. The Foolish Concubine. Just as the title promised, it was a frustrating read. She had powered through all twenty-three chapters in one night, not out of fascination but disbelief.

The emperor’s highest-ranking concubine, the so-called “beloved,” had been nothing more than a puppet. Deceived from the start by her cunning second sister and the ever-ambitious third prince, she lived her life in a haze of lies and manipulation. In the end, she died a tragic, pitiful death betrayed, broken, and forgotten.

Liu Mei rolled her eyes. “She was stupid,” she muttered to herself. “Naïve and blind. She had power and position yet couldn't see what was right in front of her.”

Not once did Liu Mei feel pity. If anything, she was annoyed. Had the concubine used even half her brain, none of that would’ve happened. But no she let love cloud her judgment and trusted the wrong people. Typical.

Still grumbling under her breath, Liu Mei reached for her phone. As the screen lit up, her annoyance softened. A new message blinked at the top a text from him.

She opened it.

It was a photo.

The man in the picture stood tall in a sleek black suit, effortlessly stylish. His raven hair was perfectly combed back, revealing sharp, elegant features. High cheekbones, a sculpted jawline, and piercing eyes that held both charm and quiet danger. He looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine or in the boardroom of a billion-dollar company.

Beneath the photo was a short message:

“Just landed in Austra. Already miss you.”

Liu Mei snorted. The words were oddly childish almost out of place for someone like him. But she knew he meant them. The world might see him as refined, poised, and untouchable, but behind closed doors… he was different. With her, he let his guard down.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. After a moment’s pause, she simply typed:

“Ok, nice.”

It was cold, even distant, but that was how they were at least in public. Still, as she powered off the phone, her gaze lingered on the screen just a second longer. Her cheeks were tinged with pink. That stupid smile she was trying to suppress crept up anyway.

She sighed, shook her head, and placed the phone face-down on her nightstand. With the lights dimmed and the room quiet, she nestled into the covers.

Tomorrow would be the weekend. She needed rest.

   The next morning came with the hum of sunlight slipping past her curtains. Liu Mei blinked awake, stretched, and stared at the ceiling for a long, quiet moment. Last night’s book still sat where she’d left it face-down like it had personally offended her.

With a sigh, she got out of bed and began her weekend routine. The floors needed a quick sweep, the dishes a rinse, and her plants minimal as they were got their perfunctory splash of water. Efficiency was second nature to her.

By ten-thirty, she was dressed in a sleek, casual beige top and dark jeans, her shoulder-length hair pulled into a low ponytail. Gold earrings glinted under the light as she checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. Simple. Stylish. Done.

Her phone buzzed once on the counter. Another message from him. She didn’t open it this time. Not yet.

She grabbed her keys and handbag, heading down to the underground garage where her car waited.

The space was quiet, cool, and dimly lit the kind of stillness that made her heels echo sharply against the concrete floor. As she rounded the corner to her parking spot, she stopped short.

A small, scruffy black cat sat curled beside the front tire of her car, its yellow eyes blinking up at her. It meowed softly once, then again.

Liu Mei frowned.

She hated cats.

Not out of fear, but because of their unpredictable nature. Aloof, clingy, entitled they reminded her too much of people she didn't care for. With an expression of mild disgust, she nudged her foot toward it.

“Shoo.”

The cat hissed and darted under the car, disappearing into the shadows. Liu Mei didn’t wait to see where it went. She unlocked the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The garage lights flickered once, then steadied.

She backed out smoothly, drove up the ramp, and merged into traffic.

It was an ordinary day. The streets buzzed with late morning activity pedestrians, cyclists, and weekend shoppers moving with lazy purpose. Liu Mei adjusted the radio and checked the time. She planned to stop by the mall for some new shoes, maybe grab lunch at her favorite sushi place. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Then the light turned green.

She accelerated.

Out of nowhere, a van swerved into her lane no signal, no warning. Tires screeched. Her heart lurched.

She barely had time to react.

Metal crunched. Glass shattered. Her body jolted violently as her car slammed into the median and spun once, twice 

Silence.

It was sudden, eerie silence.

The world dimmed, and everything slowed. Her vision blurred. Warmth trickled down her forehead, sticky and wet. Somewhere, distant sirens wailed, but they sounded underwater—too far to reach her.

Her last thought wasn’t of fear. It wasn’t even of pain.

It was a flash of the man in the photo. That quiet smile. The message she hadn’t read.

I should have replied properly.

Darkness claimed her.

    Elsewhere…

The room was cloaked in shadows, save for the cold blue glow of the massive television screen dominating the far wall. The air was still thick with silence and something heavier sorrow.

A man sat alone on the leather couch, his body rigid, fists clenched on his knees. His tailored black shirt, crisp and expensive, now hung loosely on his frame, as though even fabric had abandoned its will to hold him upright. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his face pale beneath the soft light.

On the screen, bold white letters flashed across a crimson news banner:

“The Passing of the Great Judge Liu Mei Nation Mourns the Iron Lady of Justice”

The anchor’s voice droned on with respectful solemnity, listing her accomplishments, her reputation, the accident that took her life.

But he didn’t hear it.

His eyes bloodshot, wide, and hollow were fixed on her name.

Liu Mei.

The corners of his mouth trembled. No tears fell, but his pain was unmistakable. It sat on his shoulders like iron chains, weighing him down until even breathing seemed like punishment.

He leaned forward slowly, reaching for the glass coffee table in front of him. His hand hovered, then grasped a small white bottle.

Pills.

He unscrewed the cap, tilted it back, and swallowed without hesitation.

One after the other.

Until the bottle was empty.

He leaned back against the couch, head tilted upward, eyes fluttering closed. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips not one of peace, but resignation.

His body stilled.

Moments passed.

Then

The door burst open with a violent crash.

A team of doctors in white coats rushed in, barking orders, shoving aside furniture, dragging in equipment.

“Get the paddles!”

“He’s unresponsive pulse is gone!”

“Start compressions!”

But it was already too late.

His hand lay open, fingers curled slightly, the empty bottle rolling from his palm and hitting the floor with a hollow clink.

The man who once smiled only for Liu Mei was gone.